Who Really Matters
by AlambilStar
Summary: Four years into the Pevensies' reign, Edmund still struggles with the guilt from the mistakes he made before. His siblings don't know how to help him... until Lucy gets an idea.
1. Edmund's Guilt

This is my first fanfic, so... go easy on me, kay? ;) Constructive criticism is welcomed.

If you like to picture what the Pevensies look like, when I was writing I was thinking of how they look in the Prince Caspian movie. It was filmed roughly 3 to 4 years after they filmed LWW, and this is set 4 years into the Pevensies' reign.

Disclaimer: I do not own Narnia or any of its characters or places. They belong to the spectacular C.S. Lewis.

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><p><em>The hall was cold and dark; the stale air hung about him and threatened to suffocate him. Everywhere he turned, he could see nothing but icy walls so cold they looked blue. And where he couldn't see walls, there was only shadow—before him, behind him, above him. There was no way out, and apparently nowhere to go. Still, taking action was better than standing and doing nothing. So he set out at a brisk pace, moving forward.<em>

_The scenery never changed, and his faster breathing brought the freezing air inside him and filled his lungs, hurting and making him cough. The cold seemed to press in on him from every direction—seemed to pierce his very soul. He was so alone. The feeling of helplessness grew and he felt as if there was nothing he could do to save himself from the endless winter. And still he numbly moved onward, not knowing what else to do._

_ Then, from the shadows ahead of him, he heard something. Distant and queer, at first he couldn't tell what exactly was making the noise. But as he moved even further along the hall, the sound grew until he knew—it was a scream. Agonizing and filled with pain and sorrow, it pierced him to the very center and made him tremble. Then another scream started, and then another. Soon it was hard to tell if they were coming from in front of him or behind him, as the sounds of terror echoed and bounced off the walls of ice. The mounting pain in his head forced him to stop walking and clutch at his hair. The screams and moans were of the most desperate, most tortured kind. While he heard them, their pain became HIS pain, their sorrow was HIS sorrow. Just when he thought he could take no more, he saw the statues._

_ Stone statues, frozen in expressions of horror and agony, slowly emerged out of the shadows and surrounded him. Fauns and centaurs, giants and various animals, all faced him and made him shudder even more violently. Though he knew they couldn't possibly be alive, the screaming and moaning seemed to be coming from their frozen mouths. And he somehow came to understand that it was HE who had caused their pain. They were hurting, HE was hurting, and it was all his fault._

_ More statues moved out of the darkness. His brother and sisters stared at him, their frozen eyes blank, their pained, tortured expressions cemented into stone. It was more than he could bear._

_ "No…" his voice shook with fear and horror and panic. "No… No, NO! This isn't what I wanted!" He sobbed to his frozen siblings. "Make it all go away!" he yelled to the dark ceiling._

_ The endless noise grew louder. His yells and moans of agony joined theirs as he crumpled into a ball on the stone cold floor. With tears streaming down his numb face, he cried for mercy, for forgiveness. He couldn't stand it; he couldn't take any more. He felt like he was dying, and he almost welcomed it—felt he deserved it for what he had done._

_ Then, above the screaming, a voice spoke—loud and clear. "Have you had enough, Little King?" Hearing that voice speak was the most horrible shock he had yet experienced. How he loathed that voice, and the owner of it. It was HER voice, and she was mocking him, taunting him in her overly sweet way._

_ "Have you looked around you, Son of Adam? Do you see what you have done?" She laughed, an empty, humorless laugh that echoed around the hall and mixed with the screams. "Did you think that you were forgiven? Is that what that Lion, the great fool, told you? How can you ever be forgiven for committing a crime so terrible?" Her words pierced him like nothing else had, and he hid his face under his arms and sobbed into the stone floor while the screams grew into an unbearable volume. His body ached, his head wanted to split open…_

_ Then, as if on cue, there was sudden and absolute silence. It was an eerie silence, without any echoes of shrieks or moans. He felt as if he had been plunged into a pool of ice cold water. Afraid to move, he remained in a crumpled ball on the floor, breathing heavily. After a few seconds, he began to sense the presence of something hovering above him. When he finally gathered the courage to look up, his heart jumped and he yelled out of horror. Her face was staring down at him, smiling cruelly._

_ "Every traitor belongs to me," she spoke softly. "You are mine, Traitor."_

_ Then suddenly, the stone floor vanished, and he was falling, falling into her realms, falling….._

"AAARRGGHHHH—NOOOOO!" Edmund jerked up in bed, panting and shaking. His whole body ached, and his sheets were damp with perspiration. Dizzy, it took him a few seconds to remember that he was safe in his cozy bedroom in Cair Paravel and not in the White Witch's castle of stone and ice. But he did not feel safe. He sat there, hugging his knees and letting tears stream down his face, trying to push the vivid images from his mind.

Since the beginning of the Pevensie's reign 4 years ago, he had been having these dreams—nightmares filled with ice and snow and cold, filled with imprisonment and being trapped. Often, they resulted in him or someone else being killed. They used to be more mild than this, in earlier years, but the longer they occurred, the more vivid and the more real they became. They were getting to the point of actually affecting him physically—Edmund really did feel pain when he dreamt, and he hadn't been sufficiently warm since he'd slept in his old bed back in Finchley. He thought that he might never stop feeling cold. Even during the day, he was often shivering when everyone else was comfortable, although most dismissed it as just part of his nature. Only Lucy ever got worried enough to bring him a coat or cloak every now and then, for which he was very grateful.

Edmund didn't dare roll over and try for more sleep—he couldn't take any more ugly nightmares tonight. He got up and walked over to the bay window that overlooked the ocean. The first glow of morning light was just visible in the eastern sky, so he judged it to be about 6 o'clock or shortly thereafter. Deciding it was close enough to when he usually woke anyway, he dressed and walked downstairs, thinking he could get some fresh air in an early-morning walk along the beach before it was time for his morning archery practice.

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><p>More to come soon!<p>

-AlambilStar


	2. Susan's Concern

Second chapter up! I basically have the whole thing written or planned out, but the rest needs some editing, so this is as much as I can post for now. Also, I'll be away on vacation for a couple of weeks, so... sorry if you don't hear from me until then. =P

Disclaimer: Although I sincerely wish I did, I do not own Narnia. C.S. Lewis is a genius.

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><p>The first thing Susan remembered when she woke around 7 o'clock that morning was that it was Tuesday—the day she had scheduled to help Edmund with his archery before breakfast. That definitely gave her motivation to get out of bed. She loved the one-on-one time with her younger brother, and she could tell he enjoyed it, too. The young king was quite proficient at fencing, but needed a little tutoring when it came to the bow. He found it to be slightly more awkward than handling a sword, so they had been working together on his technique once a week for a few months. Susan had observed his great improvements and took pride in knowing that she had helped him along.<p>

She got out of bed, stretched, and strolled over to her closet. As she picked out what dress to wear for the day (she had so many, the large closet was practically overflowing), her thoughts turned to more worrying matters. She knew Edmund had been having the nightmares again last night, because she'd heard him moaning and yelling next door. Lucy's room was on the other side of his, but she was a deep sleeper, so she was never bothered by it much. Susan knew Ed didn't like talking about the dreams, but he had related enough to her in their morning time together to make her increasingly concerned. The images and feelings he saw and felt at night certainly weren't helping him get past his guilt associated with the Witch, she thought as she ran a brush through her ebony hair. He still struggled, even after four years of being rid of her. Susan stayed deep in thought until she walked down the stairs of the castle and out into the morning sunlight.

Narnia mornings were always beautiful and refreshing, and Susan felt herself being awakened more fully than she would have had she stayed inside. The sky was the purest shade of baby blue she had seen that year, and the whole landscape seemed to be living and breathing. Susan found herself bouncing a little as she walked toward the archery ranges, yet resisted the urge to twirl around a few times (only Lucy could get away with that sort of thing). She spotted Edmund already practicing, and glad though she was that they could get right to work, it could only mean he had been up for a while already due to his nightmare-induced insomnia.

She gave a small smile and a wave as she approached him. "Good morning, early bird!"

"Morning, Su." He set his bow down on the grass and turned to meet her. Dark shadows lay under his eyes, confirming Susan's suspicions.

"Oh, Edmund," she sighed. "You look exhausted."

"I don't know what you mean," he said, giving a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I've never felt more awake in my life."

Susan laid a hand on his arm. "You don't fool me, brother," she said more quietly. "I heard enough from your room last night to suggest otherwise."

His smile vanished. When he spoke, his voice was grave. "What did you hear?"

"Enough yelling and moaning to wake the whole castle, that's for sure."

"Did you… Did you hear anything I said?" His brown eyes searched hers.

"Something like, 'this isn't what I wanted' or 'make it go away' or… something.…" She trailed off when she saw his expression.

He broke eye contact and moved to pick up his bow from the ground. "I'm fine, Susan." Then, when she opened her mouth to argue, he added quickly, "Truly. Please don't worry about me. Besides," his voice took a lighter tone, "the morning air is rejuvenating enough to refresh even those who've had _no_ sleep. I am completely ready for my archery lesson." He turned back to her. "And I have a feeling you'll be impressed with my incredibly improved skills," he said with a crooked grin.

"Unless they're twice as good as they were last week, I doubt it." She gave a small smile. "But let's see what you've been working on."

As it turned out, Edmund _had_ improved a lot since the last time Susan observed him. Since his basic technique was now strong, they drilled for about half an hour on his speed. At first, it greatly reduced his accuracy, but as Susan encouraged and guided him and he kept working, the movements became more fluid and the arrows struck nearer and nearer the bullseye. By breakfast time, Susan pronounced him fit and able to join her and the archers in battle, if he so desired.

"Thanks Su, but I think my greatest strength is still with the sword," Edmund said as they walked towards the castle. "But I bet I'll beat Peter in the archery competition at the next tournament!" he stated proudly.

Susan ruffled his dark hair, a task that was becoming increasingly difficult due to his most recent growth spurt. He was now a good six inches taller than her. "We'll see about that," she teased. "Just don't get cocky. A wise friend once told me that 'pride is the first and easiest mistake of most and the cause of the fall of many.'"

"Who told you that? Oreius?" Edmund guessed, shaking the hair out of his eyes.

"No," she smiled. "You."

"Oh." He fell silent for the last few steps to the entryway. Susan stopped and watched him enter the great hall and sit down to breakfast. Now that their time alone was over, he was gradually transforming from her easy-going brother into the quiet, reserved King. And while she didn't mind that he was more shy around others, she wished he would at least try to look a little more happy. Because at this point, more than just the Pevensies had noticed Ed's regular depression. She feared if it continued much longer, his own mood wouldn't be the only one at risk.

Susan sighed again as she followed him to the table. _Bother,_ she thought to herself as she picked up a piece of toast. _Ed's mood is bound to be dreadful today. I really should tell Peter._

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><p>Reviews and comments are appreciated! I'll get the next chapters up as soon as I can.<p>

-AlambilStar_  
><em>


	3. Peter's Frustration

Well, I got inspired to edit after seeing the 6 reviews I've gotten already. =) I'm a sucker for compliments. This chapter was close to ready anyway.

Disclaimer: Narnia is not mine. Neither is the Magnificent Peter Pevensie. But Ignatius is. =) Read on...

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><p>The High King sat at the head of a long rectangular table in the meeting room of the castle. The rest of the places around the table were occupied with various fauns, centaurs, and talking animals—the Council of the Court of Narnia. Today's topic of discussion was foreign relations, specifically, their relation with Calormen. It was <em>not<em> Peter's favorite topic, as it was rather difficult at times to get along with the Calormenes. But it was essential to Narnia's well-being and to the peace of all the countries of that world, which he kept repeating to himself so it would (perhaps) make the two-hour-long council more bearable. But still, he kept wishing he were somewhere else—with Lucy, who was probably reading in the library, or even with _Susan_, who had been given the task of organizing the next ball to be held at Cair in a couple months.

Peter sighed as he remembered what Susan had related to him earlier that morning. He hated that his brother was hurting _still_, but felt almost helpless to do anything about it. Edmund's continued guilt and self-condemnation had negative effects on his health, his mood, and the whole family's unity. Yet, try as Peter might, he could not convince him that all was well, all was taken care of. Ed simply would not let the past go, and it frustrated Peter. Could he not _see_ what he was doing to himself? There were times when the High King thought Edmund almost _liked_ what he was going through, almost thought of it as his deserved punishment. He shook his head slightly and glanced at his younger brother, sitting on his right. Ed's eyes were closed, his breathing deep. Every now and then something that sounded very much like a snore escaped his mouth. Peter tried not to laugh as he gave Edmund's legs a hearty kick from under the table. Ed's head snapped up, his eyes struggling to focus. Peter nodded towards the room, indicating that they needed to pay attention to the discussion going on among the Council. At that moment, a faun named Ignatius (who was a rather _large_ faun, and known for his quick temper) was giving a long rant about Calormen, his voice increasing in volume as he went on.

"… All they're interested in doing is making money! And once they've sucked us and Archenland dry of all our riches, they'll march in with their armies and take over! Calormen's newest demands on our trade are absolutely... absolutely…." He sputtered, his face turning red as he tried to come up with a word nasty enough to describe it.

"Unreasonable?" piped a Talking Squirrel.

"Foolish?" a centaur suggested.

"Stupid…" Edmund muttered under his breath.

"Precisely!" Ignatius threw up his hands in exasperation. "We should not have to put up with this!"

"Ignatius, please," Peter held up his hand to silence the faun. "I am aware of the Calormenes' extreme requests. However," he spoke louder for emphasis, "if we all remain _calm_, reasonable, and discuss this with their ambassadors in a _diplomatic_ manner, I'm sure a compromise can be made."

A few of the animals and creatures nodded in agreement. Oreius, standing to the left of the High King, spoke. "Sire, I hope you have something in mind, because those ambassadors will be arriving this afternoon to discuss it."

"They _what_?" Peter stood so fast, his chair was almost knocked over. The room fell silent. "The Tisroc's last message said they would be arriving sometime late next week! When did you find out about this drastic change in schedule?" His voice echoed around the chamber. All around the table, shocked faces stared back at him, too scared to say anything. Peter felt the color draining from his face.

"I got the most recent message about half an hour ago, just before this Council convened."

"_Half an hour?_" Peter thundered. Head pounding, heart racing, he turned to the rest of the room. "Has _anyone_ else heard _anything_ about this newest development?"

The only response was silence. Some shook their heads. He saw Edmund rise slowly and stand next to him. "Pete…" he rested a hand on his shoulder. "Didn't you just tell the Council something about being calm, reasonable, and…"

Peter let his breath out in one long sigh. "Diplomatic." But he didn't feel diplomatic. He felt like being violently sick.

The younger King nodded and turned to Oreius. "Do you know how many are planning on coming?"

"To my knowledge, just two, your Majesty," the centaur general spoke calmly. "Their ship is scheduled to arrive in the harbor in a few hours, and with any luck they'll be sailing home before this time tomorrow."

Peter sank back into his chair and massaged his forehead. "A few hours…"

Edmund addressed the whole Council. "While this is indeed a shock and will need cooperation and effort from everyone to pull through, we have dealt with worse problems in the past." His level, calm voice had a soothing effect on the atmosphere in the room. "I see no reason why speaking with the ambassadors today would be any different than speaking with them a week from now. We should make sure to be welcome and gracious to them even if we may feel offended by their lack of communication and courtesy. Let us show that Narnian hospitality is extended to all, and act in such a way that if Aslan himself were here, he would be proud of our conduct." Peter glanced up at his brother standing next to him. The weariness and depression that had hung around him all morning had suddenly vanished, to be replaced with an air of leadership and confidence. Surprised and impressed, Peter watched as the younger King made various assignments and coordinated the rest of the meeting, bringing it to an early close so preparations could be made quickly.

After the Council had dispersed, Peter pulled him aside in the hallway outside the meeting chamber. "Ed, what you did back there, that was… absolutely brilliant," he smiled.

Edmund gave a look of mild surprise. "You really think so?"

"I _know_ so," Peter said firmly. "You handled everything incredibly well. And… I'm sorry for my outburst," he apologized sheepishly.

"It's alright. I was pretty shocked too."

"A _few hours_, Edmund! And with a message sent the morning of their arrival! How…"

"Yeah, well, we always knew the Calormenes were thick, we just didn't know they were rude and inconsiderate _pigs_, too."

Peter laughed, walking down the hall as he did. "Just don't say that to their faces—it's not quite what I'd consider 'diplomatic'."

Edmund grinned. "You going to get the girls?"

"Susan, at least. Lucy's always harder to find."

"I'll find her—she's probably buried in a book somewhere in the library."

"Alright, thanks. Meet in the throne room as soon as you can."

As he headed towards Susan's bedroom, Peter couldn't help but smile to himself. Seeing his brother happier made him feel that much better about everything; even if this meeting with the Calormen ambassadors was a nightmare, it would be tolerable because Edmund had managed to pull himself (at least temporarily) out of his chronic depression.

_Maybe I should give him more leadership opportunities,_ thought Peter as he knocked on Susan's door. _At least I would have a little more help with all these responsibilities._

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><p>Reviewers, thanks for the kind words! I suppose I should respond...<p>

**Hain degistirildi **- Merci beau coup =) I shall indeed try to complete this soon

**Evenstar202 **- Aw, stop it. I'm blushing.

**Aravis Queen of Archenland **- Thanks! Uh, define "action". Haha there is SOMETHING coming around the corner!

**tacobella18 **- Thanks, I'm glad you think so =)

**tapdancer10 **- It pays to be patient ;) thanks so much!

I've decided to take my laptop in the car with me, as I'll be traveling for a full two days with my family. I'll probably be able to finish this one, and maybe even start on another Narnia fanfic! I have a couple of ideas I've been tossing around... *mischievous grin*

Thanks for reading! Keep checking back!

-AlambilStar_  
><em>


	4. Lucy's Understanding

Long day in the car today- 12 hours of driving. I'm _exhausted_. However, I used this opportunity to write, while my laptop had battery power. This chapter is very, VERY long in comparison to chapters past, however it's probably my favorite so far. Hope you all like!

Disclaimer: Same drill- Me no own Narnia. If I did, I'd be rich.

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><p>The Calormene man droned on and on, reading from a long roll of parchment. Lucy felt no need to pay attention, since she and her siblings already knew every detail of the Tisroc's new trade requests. It was a load of rubbish about increasing the price the Narnians had to pay for basic Calormene supplies, yet it left the cost of Narnian trade items untouched, on the basis that Calormen was experiencing a mild "drought". ("Calormen is <em>always<em> experiencing a mild drought," Peter had commented dryly. "They live on the edge of a desert.") The two ambassadors sent to Cair Paravel to complete the negotiations had arrived a half hour earlier, and (to Lucy's knowledge) wouldn't be leaving until they received a written agreement from the four monarchs.

From the first moment she laid eyes on him, Lucy instantly disliked the head ambassador. He had a proud, haughty look and walked with his head held high, his eyes looking down at anyone he met. He had one of the highest positions in the Calormene government, and one could observe quite easily that his power and status were going to his head. His embroidered robes seemed to drip with ornaments and tassels. He was accompanied by a younger man, one who was much nicer looking and who smiled more. If they had any chance of changing the proposed trading plan, it would be through him.

Lucy glanced to the right at her siblings. Edmund looked like he wasn't listening much either, as he was resting his arms on his throne and staring at the ground. Peter was attentive, as was Susan, and both had slightly troubled looks on their faces.

Finally, after what had seemed like an eternity, the first ambassador finished reading and rolled up the scroll. There was a moment's pause, then Peter spoke.

"Sirs, my royal siblings and I thank you for traveling all this way to meet with us. We hope your journey was smooth and that you find your accommodations here acceptable."

Both ambassadors bowed, one more stiffly than the other.

"And now, we must speak regarding the letter just read aloud." Peter took a deep breath, then continued. "While we understand the circumstances your country is facing at this time, we do not agree that the proposed revision to our trading partnership is reasonable or even necessary."

There was a brief silence. The younger Calormene looked mildly shocked, the older man angered.

"And why would that be?" the latter asked, his voice colored with annoyance.

The Pevensies had expected a similar reaction, and had an answer ready. "In times past," spoke Susan, "Narnia has always given more than the expected price when trading with her neighboring countries, as a sign of friendship and courtesy. The last time we communicated with the Tisroc, we were told that this extra had been collected and put into storage for times ahead, a strategy which we agreed was very wise indeed." She inclined her head toward the Calormenes, as if to give them the credit for their leader's decision.

"We would give more," piped up Lucy, "were it not for the present economic circumstances facing Narnia." Peter had told them, before the ambassadors' arrival, that if Calormen could fabricate a drought, then Narnia could use the fact that they currently had less riches than normal to refuse the trading policy.

"Ah, I thought you might bring that up," the older man said with a sneer. "Unfortunately, we've already used all of the money in storage to pay for the costs of attaining clean water, among other things."

Susan and Lucy exchanged looks. Somehow, Lucy doubted that it was already gone, since they had been quite generous before… Her mind wandered, oblivious to the conversations around her. She glanced at Edmund again, who seemed to be paying attention, but had not spoken. She wished desperately that this meeting was over, as she hadn't had very much for lunch, and wanted nothing more than to sneak into the kitchen and eat some dinner prematurely. She wondered what the castle's chefs were planning for that evening… Roasted duck? Green salad? The fish they'd had the other night was absolutely the best she'd ever had in her life. Her mouth almost started watering with the thought.

She was torn away from her delicious thoughts when she realized the conversation was getting heated. Leaning forward in her seat, she listened more closely.

The senior ambassador had turned a deep shade of red by now. "Forgive me, _your Majesty_," he said, his tone barely masking his mounting temper, "but wouldn't it be wisest on your part to comply with our proposal? The Tisroc (may he live forever) is very set on these new trade ideas, and when he makes up his mind, there is no changing it. Should you, therefore, refuse it, I can assure you he will be very angry indeed."

Lucy glanced at Peter. He was doing a much better job at maintaining his composure than the Calormene. However, even he was beginning to look angered. Thankfully, when he spoke, his voice was carefully controlled.

"Sir, I must admit that I am more concerned about the welfare of my people than the temper of the Tisroc."

The second ambassador spoke. "Ah, but may I suggest that the welfare of your people _depends_ on the Tisroc's (may he live forever) happiness? For, though he is a great man, he also shows no mercy to those who go against his will." For a second, a look of fear flitted across the Calormene's face, as if he had first-hand experience of what it was like to defy the Tisroc's "will." But he went on confidently, "He has numberless armies of noble men anxious to serve him. And at his command, they immediately fall upon his enemies."

Lucy had sensed all along that the "we have better armies" argument was coming, but she was surprised when Susan spoke up, a sweet smile on her face. "Well then, we have nothing to fear! Narnia is not the Tisroc's enemy. We have maintained peace between our countries for many years now."

Four years could hardly pass as "many," but since Lucy knew Susan was trying to soften the growing tension in the throne room, she nodded her agreement. She also suspected that Susan's beauty might have a role in charming the ambassadors. Her suspicions were confirmed when the first Calormene gave her sister a repulsive-looking smile (he obviously thought it was attractive) that sent chills up her spine.

"But of course, your Highness. We are merely suggesting that in order to maintain this peace and friendship, we must agree on our trade policies." The look he gave Susan at that moment made Lucy want to run over and give him a good bonk on the head.

Apparently, Peter had seen that look and was having similar feelings, for he leaned forward in his throne as he spoke forcefully. "You are wise to use the word 'agree,' for this is why we have met today. To 'agree' is to reach a compromise, _not_ for one country to submit to the other's desires without question."

The ambassador sensed Peter's mounting wrath and threw his next comment back with double the ferocity, abandoning all civility. "That is not for the King of barbarians to decide!" he spat. "No matter how great you think you or your armies may be, they will _never_ match the might of Calormen! And if you have the gall and the impudence to keep resisting us, the might of Calormen will be unleashed on this barbaric land!"

Lucy's eyes widened. The man was throwing very obvious threats at them now. She turned towards Peter, hoping to catch his attention and mouth something, but he was just as caught up in the argument as was the senior ambassador.

"You will _not_ threaten our country like this!" he glared. "I—"

"I will threaten you as much as I'd like!" the Calormene interrupted, his face livid. "I have the power of the Tisroc on my side, and you have _what_?" he yelled sarcastically. "A few animals and half a dozen trees?"

The younger Calormene, standing well away from his companion with an expression of fear on his face, interjected timidly, "O my Father, you forgot, after mentioning our great ruler's title, to say 'may he live fore—'"

"_I DON'T CARE!_" the older man shrieked. Lucy thought foam might start spouting from his mouth. "_Nothing_ I say is going to affect how long the Tisroc lives!" He rounded on the Kings and Queens again. "And you ***** children who call yourselves 'monarchs' should learn how things _work_ in this world! Those who are small and insignificant _submit_ themselves to the powerful, and believe me, _NO_ country is more ***** powerful than the _MIGHTY CALORMEN_!" He then let out another string of the ugliest curse words Lucy had ever heard; she flinched at every one of them.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a movement to her right. Edmund had risen to his feet, his left hand held up to quiet his older siblings, who looked as if they were either going to yell or be sick. His expression was unreadable, his silent gaze penetrating. He stood for several long, increasingly uncomfortable seconds, during which the furious Calormene became more and more frightened-looking. He had crossed an invisible line, and he and everyone else knew it. No one dared speak, the Just king's towering frame intimidating, his hand still raised.

Then, for the first time since the ambassadors entered the throne room, he spoke.

"Sir, we do not tolerate such foul, offensive language in the house of Narnia." Every word was even and measured, but Lucy could sense the anger building behind them. Edmund glared at the now silly-looking man below him. "And we especially do not allow such obscenities to be spoken in the presence of ladies, particularly the tender-hearted _Queens_ of Narnia." The look on his face was now quite discernable: it was absolute fury. The command he gave next was beyond powerful; only a fool would disobey. "You will now _apologize_ to my sisters, sir, if you wish to remain in this room with my royal siblings and I any longer."

The Calormene was quite obviously a fool; after a moment more of looking downright terrified, he regained his previous anger and malice surprisingly and ridiculously fast. "I will not be taught lessons on _manners_ by the Traitor King," he sneered, spitting in Edmund's general direction.

There was an uproar. Peter was on his feet in a second, yelling for the guards, his hand grasping Rhindon's hilt. Susan, too, had stood and was looking the angriest Lucy had ever seen her. Lucy herself felt a surge of indignation at the man's absolute stupidity and impertinence, but her anger was overwhelmed by concern for her brother. She just caught a glimpse or two of him before he disappeared through a side doorway, but what she saw made her want to cry out to him. Though the words of the Calormene were foolish and untrue, Edmund had believed them. The word "traitor", just one word, had reopened the wounds that were still so fresh from the previous night. The image of her brother, his shoulders drooping and head hanging in despair, still sat at the front of her mind.

The guards, who had been glancing in nervously for the last few minutes, now rushed into the throne room, seizing the Calormene men and attempting to drag them out. The first was putting up a good fight, kicking and screaming like a toddler throwing a tantrum. More fauns were sent in to assist his removal. But the younger man went very quietly, his head bowed in shame. Lucy got the feeling that he was truly sorry, though he hadn't contributed much at all to the hurt feelings and insults.

Meanwhile, Peter was shouting directions to the guards. "Take them to their ship and demand that they sail home!" he roared. "And don't leave them until the ship's crew has complied!" The yells of protests faded away as the doors closed behind them.

The resulting silence in the throne room was empty, hollow. Peter and Susan exchanged furious glances before noticing the absence of their younger brother.

Susan sighed wearily. "Where did he go?"

"Who knows?" Peter ran a hand through his hair, frustrated beyond measure. "Lion's Mane, that was rough." He shook his head. "I suppose we'd better go look for him."

Lucy nodded, getting up immediately and crossing to the door through which Edmund had left. The other two went to check in other parts of the castle. But Lucy knew (or at least, she had a hunch) where Edmund had gone, as the side door led out to the castle grounds.

Once out the door, she picked up her skirts and ran towards Cair's gardens. The various shrubbery, flower beds, trees, and hedges made a sort of maze, providing instant privacy if one sought it. Once she reached the garden path, Lucy slowed to a walk, listening and watching for signs of her brother.

After moving past a trickling fountain and rounding the corner of a hedge, she heard a noise. She stopped by a beech tree to listen. It was the sound of quiet, muffled sobs, interspersed with sniffing.

She moved out from behind the tree. He sat on a stone bench, bent over double, his hands covering his face. Her heart swelled with pain and she cried out, "Oh Edmund!"

His head jerked up, startled. Tears were streaked down his face. Lucy rushed to him, sitting beside him and pulling him into a hug. Patting his back, she tried hard not to start crying herself. She couldn't stand to see him like this.

"Lu-Lucy," he mumbled. "I'm so sorry…"

"Sorry?" she pulled back. "Why on earth are you _sorry_? You haven't done anything wrong!" she said indignantly.

He said nothing, but looked so miserable that Lucy understood what he was thinking.

"Edmund," she said more softly, "what happened four years ago… No one holds that against you."

"No one except that Calormene," he spoke bitterly, staring at the ground.

"That _Calormene_ was the most foul, rude, out-of-line person I've ever seen! No Narnian thinks that of you, and I'm sure he's one of the few in this whole _world_ who still—"

"How do you know?" He looked at her, pain etched into his face. "How do you know what people are thinking, maybe they just know what not to say out loud—"

"The citizens of Narnia have the highest respect for you!" She was determined to make him see what she knew. "They love you and trust you in every way possible."

"Lucy, I already _betrayed_ their trust!" He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "Sometimes I don't feel like I can even _talk _to them, let alone rule as their king!" He turned his gaze back to the grass.

Now it was Lucy's turn to be silent. She was utterly bewildered at what her brother thought of himself. What on earth could she possibly say to make him see sense? Several moments passed before she thought of something.

"Do you remember what Aslan told you?"

"I—what?" Edmund looked up.

"Back when He brought you to the army camp, before the Witch made the deal with Him, when He was talking to you… Do you remember what He said?"

"How… how did you find out what He told me?" he asked, surprised.

"I didn't," she replied. "But after you talked to Him, you looked like you felt much better. I was just wondering if you could remember the conversation."

"Of—of course," he said with hesitation.

"Good. I don't want to know everything He said, that's between the two of you," she said. "But I do want to know this—did He say that He forgave you?"

Edmund lowered his head. He was quiet for so long, Lucy thought at first he was ignoring her question. But when he looked back up, she could see the fresh tears making their way down his cheeks.

"Ed?" she asked more gently. "Are you—"

"Yes," he whispered coarsely. "He did."

Lucy smiled slightly, placing her hand on her brother's knee. "Then does anything else matter?"

Edmund's eyes met hers. He blinked, then gave a small smile of his own. "No."

Lucy nodded. "Aslan has forgiven you. We—your family—we forgive you. The Narnians have forgiven you. Everyone who sees you now and how much you've grown as a person, everyone with the exception of a stupid Calormene man," she made a face, "forgives you of the things you did four years ago. Edmund… Isn't it time you forgave yourself?"

She gave that thought a few seconds to sink in, then grabbed his hand and dragged him to his feet. "Come on, I have something to show you."

Through the garden they went— back up the path, up the hill to the castle doors, and through the grand hallways of Cair Paravel. They passed both Susan and Peter, who gave Lucy surprised and curious looks when they saw her towing Edmund along, but she waved them away and kept moving.

Finally, they reached their destination—Lucy's bedroom. "Wait here," she instructed, then disappeared inside. She strode over to the far wall and lifted a large painting off of its hook.

She emerged, keeping the front of the painting hidden, and motioned Edmund over to the door of _his_ bedroom. As they stepped inside, she explained, "A few weeks after we first settled in here, I discovered this painting in a remote hallway upstairs. It at once captured my attention, it drew me in, it was… spectacular. I loved it so much, I would make regular visits to that hallway just to stand in front of it and look." She smiled. "One day Peter caught me staring at it, and told me that if I loved it that much, I could keep it. He had it moved to my bedroom, where it's been ever since."

Edmund regarded the back of the painting with curiosity. "And what… what's so special about it?"

In answer, Lucy carefully turned it around so he could see. When the sunlight from the windows hit the canvas, his eyes widened in awe. She also looked down to admire the exquisite work of art. It depicted a scene in a remote, beautiful meadow. Grass rippled like waves in the breeze, and wildflowers of various colors dotted the meadow here and there. In the distance, grand mountains topped with snow rose like giants. Above, the sky was filled with dramatic clouds that partially obscured the sun, allowing only a few of its rays burst through. But the most awe-inspiring part of the scene was its Subject, standing in the middle of the meadow. Golden light seemed to radiate from His being, making all else pale in comparison. His tawny gold mane was a sea of beautiful, soft light. His eyes were overwhelming—great and solemn, they spoke a multitude of emotions. The Subject's towering figure was so bright and strong and _real_, He could've been standing right next to them.

"Aslan," spoke Edmund softly.

Lucy held the painting out. "I want you to have it."

"What? No, no I couldn't take it…" Edmund held up his hands.

"Yes, you could." She pushed it into his arms. "I've had it to myself for far too long. Hang it up on the wall opposite your bed, and before you go to sleep at night, spend a few minutes admiring it. And…" She searched for the right words. "Before you drift off to sleep, try to remember… Remember who really matters."

And with one more glance at the painting, she turned and left his room, closing the door behind her.

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><p>Special thanks to <strong>tacobella18<strong>, **Evenstar202** (it's okay to point out errors, I like constructive feedback of any kind!), **Fan of the Just King**, **Sigy Artyn** (yup, you got PLENTY of Lucy this time around lol), and **KaulitzFan14** (me too!). You all are fantastic, I really enjoy the feedback from people who love Narnia as much as I do! =)

I'll update again soon! (I hope)

-AlambilStar


	5. The Lion's Love

Final chapter is up! =) Sorry it took a while, I didn't have internet access on my laptop until now. Hope you all like!

Disclaimer: I was not the one who created Narnia.

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><p>Edmund walked down to dinner, already feeling lighter, as if a huge weight had been lifted from off his chest. He could breathe again. And though the usual guilty tendency threatened to press in and haunt him (it's not easy to rid oneself of a habit that quickly), it was much more easily resisted because of the truth that he now knew—he was forgiven. And not only that, he was<em> loved<em>. Why couldn't he see it before? Or rather, why _didn't_ he see it before? He wondered how much longer he would have allowed himself to wallow in self-inflicted misery had Lucy not talked to him.

He stepped into the dining room and was not surprised to find Peter and Susan looking at him like he might faint or burst into tears at any second. Trying hard to ignore them, he sat down and took a few more seconds than normal arranging his napkin on his lap. When he looked back up, his brother and sister were busily sipping water and trying not to look at him. Lucy, however, simply sat and smiled serenely.

Dinner was served soon, and conversation flowed more easily. The older siblings quickly figured out that Edmund's mood had been cured, after which they gave a recounting of what had occurred shortly after Edmund and Lucy had left. Apparently, after searching fruitlessly for their younger brother for a while, they had returned to the throne room to discuss what their next course of action should be in relation to Calormen and the trade proposal. While they were wondering what to do, a guard entered, announcing that the second ambassador had requested an audience with the monarchs.

"So we let him come in, since he wasn't the one who had caused all the trouble," said Susan. "And he was so nice and sweet, and said he was terribly sorry for all the insults and the trouble they had caused. He explained that the other ambassador has been, er, a bit of trouble for the other Calormene officials. He is obsessed with having control and power, and when he doesn't get his way, he becomes horrid, as we all witnessed earlier." She shook her head sadly.

"And then," said Peter, waving his fork around, "he told us that he would personally inform the Tisroc that the failed negotiations were due to the impertinence and faults of that particular ambassador. He also seemed certain," he added with a smile, "that when the Tisroc heard what happened here today and learned of Narnia's economic circumstances, he would be much more willing to rethink the trade proposal."

Lucy clapped her hands with delight. "Oh, good! I was hoping that might be worked out. That younger Calormene certainly seemed quite a bit nicer than the other fellow."

"I think _any_ person with common sense would be nicer that that other man," Susan shuddered. "Personally, I'm just glad he came as an ambassador rather than as a suitor."

"You may want to watch out, Su," Peter remarked as Lucy laughed. "The way he looked at you, he might come back to do just that."

"Yeah, well, if he sets foot in this castle again," Edmund growled, "he'll have to get past me first. I may start making your suitors duel me before they can meet you." He stabbed a tomato in his salad with extra force, causing it to squirt him in the face.

Lucy giggled again, and Susan gave him an appreciative smile. "Thanks, Ed."

A few more minutes of conversation and eating passed, Edmund becoming more and more cheerful as his stomach became comfortably full of good food. He was quite enjoying himself for the first time in a while.

"Well," Peter gave a satisfied sigh and leaned back in his chair, his dinner finished. "Who's up for a game of chess?"

Edmund volunteered immediately. He loved playing chess, particularly against Peter. Even though the High King won the majority of the time, Edmund relished the challenge. Besides, he thought as he got up from the table and followed his siblings into their sitting room, he could use some time to unwind from the stressful day before… before…

He stopped walking abruptly, a feeling of cold dread washing over him. He had to _sleep_ tonight. Sleep meant dreams. Dreams meant…

"Edmund, are you coming?" Susan turned back, looking concerned, one foot already in the sitting room.

He tried to brush off the feeling of trepidation, though unsuccessfully. "Yeah, sorry."

He and Peter sat on the floor across from each other, on either side of a special little table they'd made specifically for a chess board. Susan and Lucy sat on the couch next to them. After a few minutes, Susan picked up a book, while Lucy watched the brothers play.

Peter won the first game easily. Then Lucy wanted a game, so she and Peter played, Peter going a little easy on her (but of course, he didn't tell her that). Edmund sat on the comfortable sofa, wondering to himself how long he could put off going to bed. As he was already starting to yawn now and then, he didn't know how long he would last.

Lucy's game was taking an extra long time, as she contemplated each move very thoroughly before taking her turn. Between her careful strategy and Peter's lowered playing level, she had successfully captured most of his pieces and was chasing his king around the board. After about the eleventh time of hearing "check", Peter surrendered.

It was during Ed's and Peter's second game that Susan stretched and announced she was ready for bed. Edmund managed to scrape a win, and in response Peter insisted on a rematch.

"Can't let you have the last win," he smiled smugly.

But Edmund's concentration was waning. Soon, Lucy followed her sister upstairs, yawning as she went. The game turned out to be a short yet brutal victory for the Magnificent. As Peter moved to put up the pieces, Edmund went into a small panic.

"No, no! Another game." And he began setting up the pieces again.

"Edmund, you're exhausted," Peter sighed.

"Nuh uh. What makes you think that?" he said as he barely managed to stifle a yawn.

Peter pointed to the board. "You put a rook in place of a pawn, and your king and bishop are switched."

Edmund sighed, staring glumly at the floor. "Guess it's past my bedtime, huh?"

Peter smiled, hoisting himself up off the floor and offering Edmund his hand. He took it, then set out solemnly for his bedroom.

Once there, he closed the door behind him and he sank onto his bed. He could almost feel the bitterly cold nightmare beginning to form in his exhausted mind. He knew things were alright now when he was awake, but he was still afraid of being haunted by the White Witch at night. He felt especially vulnerable now, being so exhausted and having just had a nightmare last night. He could feel himself drifting in and out of consciousness. His eyes drooped closed, his mind filling with images of snow, dungeons, and icy walls so cold they were tinged with blue…

His head snapped up. Shivering, he glanced around the room, determined to stay awake. His eyes fell on the painting of Aslan hanging on his wall. It had been painted so realistically, so carefully, so _lovingly_, the artist must have either had a vision of the Lion, or else seen Him in person. The Highest King over all High Kings, Son of the Emperor beyond the Sea, looked at Edmund with His piercing, unchanging eyes. Edmund could not help but feel a little warmer, his heart swelling in him with gratitude. Next to the Witch, next to the Calormene, next to _anyone_, it was Aslan's opinion of him mattered the most.

Suddenly, he knew what he had to do. Dropping to his knees by his bed, he offered a short but very sincere prayer. _Aslan_, he pleaded, _help me. I want to be rid of these nightmares and I can't do it alone._ He waited, listening. He didn't feel any different, just more tired. So with his last bit of energy, he climbed into bed and promptly fell asleep, still fully dressed.

_The remnants of past nightmares flitted by—ice, stone, blizzards, silvery-blue light… And then it was gone. In its place, a warmth spread, and with it appeared a golden glow. It enveloped him, warmed him, comforted him. There was a low, purring noise, followed by the feel of soft fur wrapped around him, as if he was nestled between the paws of the Lion Himself._

And for the first time in years, Edmund Pevensie slept peacefully.

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><p>Again, thanks for the comments! Especially to the most recent reviewers: <strong>Evenstar202<strong>, **Sigy Artyn**, **Kaulitzfan14**, and **Fan of the Just King**.

For those who may be interested, I have a few more Pevensie/Golden Age ideas in mind, so check back once in a while for anything new =) If you have any suggestions or ideas, I'm definitely willing to consider.

Thanks for reading, everyone!

-AlambilStar

P.S. If you like my writing, I'd LOVE it if you would add me to your "favorite authors" or whatever... ;)


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